


You've Got Mail

by purewanderlust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Epistolary, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 22:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: Tag for 12x18 The Memory Remains. Sam's been getting an awful lot of emails from his brother lately...





	You've Got Mail

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know how the hell this happened, I just saw a screenshot of Sam's email inbox and the next thing I know, I've written 1300 words about it.

_question about the lore research you were talking about_

That’s the subject line of the most recent email in Sam’s inbox. It’s from Dean, which would be weird enough on its own, but the fact that he’s asking a question about some research that Sam read _weeks_ ago, that had nothing to do with a case, well...

He didn’t actually think Dean listened to him when he talked about stuff like that. It doesn’t bother him. Really--he knows he can get annoying when he’s excited about statistics or whatever. Particularly when Dean’s always been more interested in the bottom line than in the cause-and-effect that led to it.

Still, it warms the part of his heart that still needs his big brother to validate him. He types out a quick answer, a tiny smile on his face when Dean shuffles in still half-asleep, hair sticking up in every direction as he clutches his coffee mug--only seconds after Sam clicks send.

*

 _This is not a case IMO_ , Dean emails two days later.

It takes Sam a second to get past the shock of his technophobic brother using chat speak, but when he does, he opens the email and reads rest of the message:

_but I thought it might be interesting to u. gotta love that true crime, huh Sammy?_

_ps have u watched that_  people vs OJ _thing_ _yet?_ l _ooks right up ur alley._

There’s that tiny, pleased feeling again, but now it’s sharing space with no small amount of confusion. Dean’s going out of his way to acknowledge Sam’s interests, but only in emails. They spend almost every waking moment together; is emailing really necessary? Is something wrong? Their relationship is in a pretty good place right now, so unless Dean’s buttering him up before revealing some horrible secret, Sam is flummoxed. 

 _“Your_ relationship _,”_ jeers the voice in the back of his head that always manages to sound like Lucifer.  _“How good can it be when_ you’re _the one keeping a horrible, twenty year-old secret?”_

Sampushes the thought away and types a quick thank-you for the link. He’s closed out of his email inbox and is surfing a monster-sighting blog by the time Dean gets back from the grocery store. His green eyes shine as he crows about homemade hamburgers and fries, so Sam gets up from the computer to help him and resolves to put the whole email thing out of his mind. 

*

_click this link?_

Sam stares at the new email that’s just popped up in his inbox, incredulous. It’s been over a week since the last email from Dean (not counting the youtube video of a hot dog eating contest gone terribly wrong). Sam thought that it was over.

Stranger still, Dean is sitting directly across the table from him looking, for all intents and purposes, totally engrossed in his Words with Friends game. Sam stares at him for a long second, but Dean just hunches his shoulders and keeps tapping away at the screen. 

With a put-upon sigh and no small amount of trepidation, Sam clicks on the link. It redirects him to youtube and he braces himself for another vomit video, or, if he’s slightly luckier, a rickroll.

It’s neither of those things. It’s Pearl Jam covering Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters, and even though the picture quality is questionable, the audio bursts from Sam’s laptop speakers, making them both jump.

Sam hits the mute button as quickly as he can, ears burning. When he chances a glance at his brother, Dean isn’t looking much better. There’s a dull red flush creeping up his neck and he’s staring at his phone, fingers frozen.

“Uhh, thanks?” Sam ventures. He’s not exactly sure what the protocol is, but he’s pretty sure that he can’t pretend that he wasn’t just reading Dean’s email.

Dean shrugs, grunts. “Know you like Pearl Jam.” he mumbles, still not looking up from his phone. “If you’re gonna listen to pansy-ass alternative music, ‘least it’s a damn good song.” 

Sam thinks about telling him he’s always thought of the lyrics as being about the two of them. He thinks about saying that Dean’s the only person he’s ever really trusted. The only person he’s ever loved so completely.

He doesn’t say anything. He never does. The urge always passes after a few moments.

*

The night they carve their initials on the bunker table, Sam goes to bed early. He was already emotionally raw from nearly losing his brother during the hunt, and then Dean had pulled out his knife and started talking about their legacies.

Sam won’t have a legacy, and it’s probably better that way. He’s done too much bad to have it outweighed by the good.

His phone chimes, heralding a new message, and Sam throws a glance at the notification. An email.

From Dean. 

The subject line says _legacy_ and Sam has to smile at how, even after all these years, they still manage to be in sync.

_Sammy u have saved a lot of people. u saved the whole world. u deserve to be remembered forever._

Sam blinks away the tears that are suddenly pricking at his eyes. He’s stunned.

_Didn’t know you felt that way._

Dean’s answer comes so quickly he can’t be doing anything other than staring at his inbox.

_i know. startin to realize u dont know a lot of what i feel._

_my fault. im not very good at talking about it Sammy._

Sam’s fingers tremble as he writes back.

_I wish you’d trust me._

Dean’s reply is puzzling.

_u might not like what u hear_

Frowning, Sam runs his thumb over the screen. There’s plenty that Dean could say that he wouldn’t like to hear. That he’s a failure, a fuck-up. That Dean still thinks he’s a monster that should be put down. Somehow, though, Sam knows that’s not what this is. This feels like something that should’ve happened a long time ago. Something that could clear away all the years of misunderstandings between them. But if he’s wrong, it could ruin everything. Sam’s heart pounds as he taps out a rejoinder.

_Try me._

He waits for a few long moments, but Dean doesn’t email back. Disappointment starts to creep in, like a pit forming in his stomach. He pushed too hard, he’s always pushing too hard...

There’s a single, sharp knock at the door and Sam bolts to his feet. He takes two long strides over and wrenches it open. He barely gets a look at Dean’s expression, hope and fear warring in his eyes, before his brother shoulders his way in and grabs Sam by the front of his nightshirt.

“Sammy, I--I...” he falters, fists tightening in the front of Sam’s shirt as his bravado deserts him. 

Sam reaches up and puts his hands over his brother’s. “Dean. Trust me. Please just let me in.”

Dean opens his mouth to speak again, but still nothing comes out. Before Sam can do anything else, he makes a frustrated noise and drags him down to his level, crushing their mouths together.

Sam gasps and Dean takes the opportunity to press deeper, saying with his lips and teeth and tongue all the things he can’t manage to give voice to.

_I trust you implicitly. I'm sorry for the times I didn’t. I believe in you. I love you._ Sam hears it all in the frantic drum of his brother’s heartbeat. He feels it in Dean’s calloused fingers at the back of his neck. He tastes it in the candy-coffee-Dean of this kiss. 

And he knows that Dean doesn’t verbalize his feelings very well, knows that he has to respond in a way that his brother can understand. So he wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and kisses back, putting a lifetime of devotion into it.

_I want to give you everything. I’ll always look up to you. I’ve never loved anyone else so completely._

Dean smiles against his mouth and Sam knows he heard the message loud and clear.


End file.
